If I Never Knew You
by 2shot
Summary: Once Upon A Time crossover. Santana lives alone near the border of Storybrooke, unable to face the woman who can't remember her. However, a bright yellow VW Beetle might just give her the hope she needs to fight.


**This is inspired by this lovely photoset: robbinskarevs-tumblr-com/post/41397337222 (replace the "-" with dots). ****This is a OUAT crossover so there are many references to the show, but hopefully it's not too confusing for any readers who aren't familiar with it :)**

* * *

You look at the last glowing hot coals in the fireplace and sigh, knowing that another day has passed without anything changing. It's been 28 years—or so the marks you've carved into multiple trees indicate—and yet you're still holding on to foolish hope.

Storybrooke is dark and wet tonight, with rain falling hard on your roof and the wind making your windows rattle. You don't mind the sounds, they remind you of your native land and the way you would hide in your yehakin when storms were too dangerous. It's hard to recall details, but you feel warm and safe when you think about the place you grew up in.

After a minute or two, you wonder what the people of Storybrooke are doing. Are they sleeping? Dreaming of nothing? Perhaps some are at the bar, swapping stories they haven't really lived, unaware that their memories are false and that time is their captor.

The reality, you know, is that time here is nonsensical. It just. . . doesn't exist. Twenty-eight years to them is no longer than a month. They never stop to wonder what time even is or what it does. It's a concept they're aware of, sure, but Regina made sure to make it something they would never dwell on too long. She's the devil that woman. Kekata used to tell you about wicked spirits a lot when you were only a child, but you truly believe this woman is Evil's muse. Perhaps even evil itself.

She took everything you loved and erased it all—like it'd never happened. At first you thought the people of Storybrooke were truly the cursed ones. They are merely empty shells, with fake memories and fabricated lives. Not even their thoughts belong to them. But you… you _remember, _and you know that in this town there is no worst curse than that. For 28 years you had to live in a body that would never age and in a town that would never change. You had to live without _her_ because you couldn't bear to see the confusion etched on her face again.

Of course you tried to win her back. You were _desperate_ to do so, but with time your hope faded drastically. The first time you saw her again you pulled her tightly to you, burying your face in her hair, but then you quickly realized something was very, very wrong. Regina had succeeded in unleashing her curse, but by a cruel twist of fate, your memories had been unaffected by it.

Your love asked you what the hell was wrong with you, and you can still feel the way your heart broke and dropped into your stomach. She knocked the breath out of you, and you remember how your throat closed up and your blood froze. It hurt more than anything, but looking back on it, you know you acted like a complete fool. The truth is, you got desperate and you completely scared her away.

* * *

_"And don't you remember Nakoma? A-and Thomas, he was your best friend, and—"_

_"Look this is getting kind of creepy, okay? And my name is not Johanna, it's Brittany_."

* * *

Brittany… Brittany… you mouth the name for what feels like the billionth time, but you like the way it rolls on your tongue. You don't care if she's Johanna Smith or Brittany Pierce; you just wish she were yours again.

Sometimes you mouth your name too (_Santana) _in case you forget it. Twenty-eight years is a long time without companionship, so you don't want to forget the things that matter. You chose that name when you realized _Pocahontas _would only get you in trouble. If the Mayor, Queen, Devil, _Regina_, heard you were going around telling people you father was Chief Powhatan and your Grandmother Willow was a talking tree, well, you don't think she would be all that thrilled.

You don't want to risk her grilling you with another curse. Although, now that you think about it, you're pretty sure she doesn't have any of her powers. This world is… strange, cold and certainly not magical. The trees don't talk back and the only raccoon you found in the forest was a lard-ass who hissed at you. (You've learned a few choice words in the past few years).

Brittany thinks you're a stalker, even if you haven't seen her in a while. For all you know, she's forgotten you all over again. Memories in this town, you've observed, are perpetually changing. You once thought maybe this could allow you to get a clean slate, woo her more delicately, but you just can't bear to be near her anymore. You'd rather be alone than have her look at you like you're a stranger.

In the 28 years of hell you've lived, you have wondered more than once what could have happened to the Queen to be so ruthlessly cruel. What you do know is that she hates every single being in this town. If you got on your knees and begged for her to break the curse, or perhaps show mercy and wipe away your own memories, you know she'd never comply. She wanted a world where everyone but her would suffer, and you are suffering more than you could have ever imagined. She would smirk down at you, most certainly.

Still, sometimes you wonder if you should still give it a try. What else do you have to lose after all? Your pride? You don't think you even have any left.

What you do know is that you can't take any more of this pain. Breathing is agony; each breath you take feels like you're swallowing ashes and they're blackening your soul. Every time you think of Brittany you want to cry yourself to sleep, where you can dream of her holding you and smiling at you, knowing exactly who you are and what you mean to her. Sometimes your dreams are more vivid, like when you have water fights or watch Brittany dance to the sound of hand drums, and you wake up with a large smile. Other times you wake up blushing because you dream of her sweet laugh in your ear and her fingers in between your legs, working you to a blissful high.

Life was simple and perhaps uneventful at times, but you loved every minute of it. She gave up so much for you, and your tribe accepted your true love for her. But now... now those memories feel like distant clouds, they're blurry at the edges and completely out of reach. You suppose that's the real curse with memories, the fact that details fade with time and you're only left with a general idea. You wrote down the ones you treasure the most—just in case time would swallow them whole—and slid them in a box under your bed.

Now you sit in the vast living room of a home you never built, a home you never asked for, and wonder what else you could do to pass time. The fire was a welcome distraction, though it lacked the creative shapes Kekata used to conjure, but sleep still eludes you.

Your body feels heavy and tired, but something is keeping you from closing your eyes. After a while, you think your ears pick up a noise. At first you shrug it off, you're tired after all, but when it grows louder, you frown and get up.

It's coming from outside, and sure enough it's not the wind in the trees or the rain crashing to the ground. When you look through your window, you can't believe your eyes.

There's a yellow car; it speeds past your house and you gape when you realize it's coming from the town's border. Only delivery supplies can come into Storybrooke, and never have there been any strangers here before. _Ever. _Added to this, it's the middle of the night—why would anyone come here of all places?

Maybe you've finally lost it, you're imagining bright shiny cars rolling around your house and soon you'll start hearing voices. But you could swear you really saw that car... and maybe even a blonde driver? You're not sure about that one, though you're pretty sure it was a woman behind the wheel.

You arch a curious eyebrow and walk into your room where you drop down to your bed, perplexed and bemused. You know better than indulge hope. . . but this time around you let yourself wonder if perhaps this is the first sign of change in Storybrooke.

You fall asleep praying that it is.

* * *

**AN:** This was just a short type ficlet because I loved the idea so much. I know it's a bit sad but it's definitely open-ended too, so if any of you are interested I have an idea where I could go :)


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